were to treat his guests by handing them an empty plate, in the hope
of something appearing upon it. And commas used for a similar purpose
belong to the same family as notes at the foot of the page and
parenthesis in the middle of the text; nay, all three differ only in
degree. If Demosthenes and Cicero occasionally inserted words by ways
of parenthesis, they would have done better to have refrained.

But this style of writing becomes the height of absurdity when the
parenthesis are not even fitted into the frame of the sentence, but
wedged in so as directly to shatter it. If, for instance, it is an
impertinent thing to interrupt another person when he is speaking, it
is no less impertinent to interrupt oneself. But all bad, careless,
and hasty authors, who scribble with the bread actually before their
eyes, use this style of writing six times on a page, and rejoice in
it. It consists in--it is advisable to give rule and example together,
wherever it is possible--breaking up one phrase in order to glue in
another. Nor is it merely out of laziness that they write thus. They
do it out of stupidity; they think there is a charming _légèreté_
about it; that it gives life to what they say. No doubt there are a
few rare cases where such a form of sentence may be pardonable.

Few write in the way in which an architect builds; who, before he
sets to work, sketches out his plan, and thinks it over down to its
smallest details. Nay, most people write only as though they were
playing dominoes; and, as in this game, the pieces are arranged half
by design, half by chance, so it is with the sequence and connection
of their sentences. They only have an idea of what the general shape
of their work will be, and of the aim they set before themselves.
Many are ignorant even of this, and write as the coral-insects build;
period joins to period, and the Lord only knows what the author means.